


i'll weigh you down, i'll watch you choke

by vanderlindecult



Category: Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-13 13:28:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29029470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanderlindecult/pseuds/vanderlindecult
Summary: Michael's craving, Trevor's too far to reach.
Relationships: Michael De Santa/Trevor Philips
Comments: 11
Kudos: 23





	1. Chapter 1

It's way too late for Michael to be thinking like this.

Way too late.

Of course he's not inebriated, tripping over his shoes with every step.

Of course he's not making his way to Trevor's trailer, ecstatic to knock on his door.

Of course not.

He wouldn't do that, he knows better than to push himself into the uncertainty of Trevor's actions.

But the thought of warm hands and rough kisses swims in his belly a little too often.

He's going to puke. He shouldn't think of placing his cold hands inside of Trevor's jacket. Or purposely pissing him off, just so he puts his hands on Michael's shirt and freezes every time,

pushing him against any surface and taking him.

He never takes him all the way, though.

Through nastily wet tongues and hands that can't stop grabbing,

Michael is always left wanting more.

More, more, and more.

So of course he's going to barge through that shitty screen door,

and of course he's going to do what he does best.

He's going to tell him that he's worried he's a terrible father, and that the kids don't need him anymore.

He's going to bitch and whine about Amanda, about himself too.

Trevor's going to tell him how ungrateful he is, how he's turned into a selfish bastard,

and Michael will soak it in.

Like a deceitful, grimy sponge,

he'll soak it all in.

It'll all end in bloody noses and spit,

until Michael slithers back for more.

But for now,

he's staring at the barely-standing front porch,

swaying,

thinking of what lie to use to piss off the one he wants the most.

Just for the hell of it.


	2. Chapter 2

Michael asked for this.

He went and downloaded some app specifically for hookups,

specifically with men.

Now, he's got his forehead resting against his steering wheel, the hot sun of Los Santos making the black leather too hot to manage.

He could care less, though.

Michael wasn't sure what to expect- he downloaded the app. He created his profile, he swiped and swiped until he had seen a decent looking guy.

What was his name? Andrew?

Andrew had shoulder-length dark brown hair, an ugly smile and even uglier moans.

Michael wanted to cry when he realized what he signed up for that night.

After a minute of half-assed kisses and the feeling of well-manicured fingers touching Michael's rough, scarred skin,

he told Andrew that he's never been with a guy, and that he'd rather just jerk each other off.

Andrew made his disappointment terribly obvious, sighing with irritation a little too often.

Michael composed himself, restricted the urge to punch him swiftly in his pudgy stomach.

"Shut the fuck up and touch my dick."

Of course Andrew groaned at that, immediately doing as Michael requested.

No sly remarks, beautifully placed kisses, none of that.

He wasn't doing it right, or maybe he was and Michael was too busy criticizing his technique.

Michael wasn't comfortable with the lack of honey-colored eyes, instead receiving a dark blue pair staring at him.

This whole thing was ugly- Andrew, Andrew's dick, Andrew's _everything._

The only good thing was his hair, at least that was familiar.

Familiar.

Michael steps out of his car to retch, seeing his lunch splattered by his shitty loafers.

The blistering sun swarming Michael's body, creating an uncomfortable heat underneath his clothes.

All he wants is to sit on his sofa, watching Nelson in Naples for the thousandth time.

But _no_ , he's sitting in a parking lot close to the highway,

the highway that takes him right to Sandy Shores.

Should he go? Be as clingy as his heart desires?

No, no he probably should not.

Trevor does not like clingy, which Michael understands.

But damnit, he needs him right now.

He needs to share the bed with him again, watching whatever poorly-made film Trevor loves.

Sharing a large pizza, hearing Trevor call him an overly picky grandpa, getting half with sausage and mushrooms, half with pepperoni.

He needs to drink as much as he can until he needs to pop the button on his jeans.

He needs to look over at Trevor and softly touch his skin, asking for the millionth time where he got the scar.

Michael needs- he needs, oh my god does he need.

He needs everyday, constantly filled with the craving of a person whom hates him just as much as he hates himself.

But he won't, he won't start his car and drive that extra hour.

No, he'll spend the rest of his afternoon throwing rocks at cars passing by, cursing as the sun, checking emails.

Then he'll sleep in his chilly car with the A/C full blast, right hand on his hip where his gun lay,

and wait until he is told he is needed.

Yeah, that's what Michael's going to do.

He needs to be needed,

nobody was lying when they called him selfish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2! I hope this was enjoyable :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut this chapter! Warning to those who need it :)

Nobody needed him.

  
It's been a full weekend. Michael's clothes are beginning to have a stench that he's not all too sure a washing machine will rid of.

  
He steps out of his car, removing his navy-blue blazer and pale-pink dress shirt. He then strips from his dress pants. Michael reaches into his bag, retrieving grey sweatpants and loafers. 

Perfect attire to relax in- tank top, sweatpants, and loafers. 

  
Besides, he sweat through his nicer clothing, having consistent moments of thought that made his bones rattle.

  
Nobody had called him,

  
texted, 

  
searched.

  
He could've been dead, no one would've been aware. 

  
Part of him took a strange sense of pride over this- knowing he can skip town without question, at least for a little while.

  
But he wouldn't leave.

  
Where would he go?

If he had a place to venture off to, he would not have spent two miserable days in his now-disgusting car. 

  
He slipped around to the driver seat, putting his key in the ignition and pulling out of the cramped alley he stayed in the night before.

  
As he made his way down the street, his phone buzzed.

  
He about swerved the wheel, his heart immediately creating a pulse rate that's almost enough to hospitalize him.

  
Pulling over the first chance he gets, Michael pulls his phone from the passenger seat, tucked away in his bag.

"hey. need 2 see u. now. -T."

-

Michael never ended up responding to Trevor's message, shooting straight to Sandy Shores, using his memory compared to using GPS like every other time. 

1 A.M. was too late for Michael's preference to be on the road, but the second he received that message, his blood ran cold.

He had to go.

His tires kissed the sandy road and it only increased Michael's nausea. Every little bump and rock only aiding the bile building in his throat.

As Michael approached the trailer, he noticed there was absolute darkness from each window.

Was he asleep?

Michael stepped out of his tailgater, planting shaky feet onto the ground. He shut the door softly, not wanting to bring any attention to himself. 

With hushed footsteps to the front door, his fist made an almost inaudible knocking sound, hopeful that it was heard.

Silence.

He knocks again, a little more force this time.

Silence.

"Trevor," accompanied with a much louder knock.

Shuffling and gentle laughter could be heard, footsteps approaching the door quickly. 

"Mikey! Come in, come in!" Trevor gestured with a grin so wide Michael feared his jaws would snap. 

"Trev, are you good? I came as fast as I could." Michael spoke in a whisper-like voice.

"Never better," Trevor muttered, keeping his eyes locked with Michael's frosty ones.

Michael hummed softly, taking in the glorious man stood in front of him.

His eyes trailed from his terribly greasy hair to his chest. His chest, full of textured scars Michael has burnt into his fingertips.

Before being able to admire all of him, Trevor began to fidget too much to be normal.

"Trevor," Michael walked towards him, backing him towards the moldy-green couch. 

"Michael."

"What did you take?" 

"Fuck you," Trevor spat, his face lighting up with amusement that only Michael could catch.

"T."

"Shh, shush for one fucking second-" Trevor started, voice in a low-pitched tone.

Trevor's hands gripped Michael's hips before he could react, walking backwards until Trevor sat onto the couch. 

A hand was placed behind Michael's knee, lifting his knee onto the cushion. The action was reciprocated with his other leg. 

Michael hadn't quiet sat down yet, hovering over Trevor's lap. Bony fingers traced over the backs of his thighs, getting quite close to his crotch. 

"Trev, wait," Michael mumbled, trying to clear his mind despite his lust-ridden eyes.

"Yes, M?" Trevor inquired, listening closely to every hitch of breath from the man above him.

"Are you-" Michael was cut short by Trevor taking his finger into his mouth, wrapping his velvety tongue around the finger. 

"Fuck," Michael rasped, jutting his hips forward a bit.

Trevor hummed around the finger, using his other hand to trace Michael's inner thighs in patterns that had the man shaking ever so slightly.

"Stand up."

The man on the couch reached forward to loop his fingers around the waistband of Michael's sweatpants, drawing them fully down and leaving him in black boxers.  
Michael wordlessly climbed back onto Trevor's lap and began tugging at T's cargo pants, pushing them down and off his legs. He then lowered himself, resting their crotches together.

"I was thinking of you, M," Trevor sighed, softly rubbing his crotch up against the other man's.

"You were?" Michael groaned, blush spreading across his face at his words and actions.

"Yeah, I couldn't stop thinking about you," Michael whimpered at the sentence, grinding his hips down with more force. Trevor groaned, bringing himself up to face Michael's chest.

"Jesus, Trev," Michael gasped as Trevor slid his tongue over his nipple, swirling around it and sucking it fully. Hands began a frenzy search for something grab onto, ending up tangled in T's hair. 

"Calm down, baby," 

"Trev, please, please do something, please-"

"Weren't you ever taught manners? And since when did you become this needy, Mikey?" Trevor teased, bringing his fingers up to pinch at Michael's other nipple.

"Ah, fuck you, I'm not needy," Michael groaned, trying to refrain from his usual panting and whining due to Trevor's actions.

"Mhm, well," Trevor sighed, "if you're not needy, you wouldn't mind this, then,"

T reached to his bunched up pants and retrieved his belt, allowing Michael to see it. 

Michael wanted to portray a confident posture, one that doesn't react when presented things of this nature, but his crotch betrayed him and twitched the second the belt was brought into view.

"I'm not needy, you prick," Michael spoke firmly to mask his whimper.

"You're gonna sit here and lie to me? I already saw your boy twitch, M." Trevor countered, slowly grasping Michael's wrists and pulling them behind his back.

"So what, they always say to not let your dick make your decisions." Michael remarked, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"No, you say that." 

Trevor meticulously wrapped his belt around Michael's wrists, drawing them tight enough to prevent slipping loose. He sat back and watched Michael writhe above him, trying to figure out if he can un-do the knots.

"You seem to forget that I was the best at tying knots out of every boy-scout around," Trevor laughed, watching Michael's face blush furiously.

"I've slid out of enough handcuffs, but.."

"But?"

"But nothing, I ain't giving you another ego boost," Michael spoke, narrowing his eyes to try and retrieve a portion of his natural dominance.

"Another? No, if anything, this is enough of an ego boost for me, Mikey." Trevor whispered, a smirk flashing all of his teeth.

Trevor began to fit his hands into the back of Michael's boxers, squeezing his ass harshly. One hand continued squeezing and releasing, the other hand trailing lower until Trevor's fingertips reached the rim of Michael's hole.

"Fuck, don't," Michael sighed, circling his hips to feel the pressure against his hole again.

"Don't what?" Trevor questioned, immediately looking above him to understand what he meant.

"Don't go in dry,"

"On the table." 

Michael turned his head to see what he meant. 

"Okay,"

Trevor nudged him to the side and stood, reaching to the table and grabbing lube. He turned back around to find Michael thrusting his hips helplessly in the air, needing more friction.

"Who's the one that said he's not needy?" Trevor mocked, sitting down and grabbing onto Michael's trembling thigh.

"Please,"

"Did you take something Michael? I've never seen you so-"

"Needy, yes I am aware, you dick," Michael spat, boring his eyes into the hazel pools that sat next to him.  
"I like this Michael, all quiet for change." Trevor revealed, pushing Michael onto his back and hovering himself over-top of him.

Michael's whimpering slowly began once more as Trevor traced a fingertip along the outline of his cock through his boxers, staring deep into his eyes and observing his every twitch.

"Not quiet enough, though," Trevor stated, pulling back and removing his own boxers. His cock sprang out of it's confines, pre-cum instantly dripping in slow droplets. Michael caught himself before he drooled and shut him mouth tightly, taking in the sight before him.

"Ah ah, open up, you wanted to whine before and now you wanna be all silent? I don't think so," Trevor scorned, approaching Michael and prying his lips open with two fingers. Michael allowed them in at once and slicked them with spit, looking up at Trevor through his eyelashes.

The fingers were removed and saliva was wiped on his cheek, following with, "You're dirty," as Trevor guided his cock to Michael's soft mouth. 

Michael wanted nothing more than to grab at the tanned hips near his face and control his movements. But Trevor was insistent with his thrusts, only allowing Michael a couple seconds to breathe before inserting himself back into the warm and slick hole. 

"Fuck, fuck that's good Mikey." Trevor praised, petting the side of his cheek and slowing his thrusts, giving Michael a chance to dip his tongue into the tip of his cock. 

Muffled groans were heard as Trevor reached down and slipped his dampened fingers through the dusting of hair across his chest, quickly flicking and pinching at his nipple.

Trevor thrust his cock a little deeper one last time, watching Michael sputter and shut his eyes tightly, a few tears rolled down his cheek. Trevor withdrew his member and leaned down, admiring the swollen lips that he inflicted.

"Come here," Trevor spoke softly, pushing his lips firmly against Michael's, tasting his own pre-cum. Michael instantly let himself be taken over once more, tentatively rubbing his tongue against the other.

Trevor lifted himself into a straddling position. He hooked his fingers onto Michael's waistband and pushed his boxers down, pausing the kiss to adore the leaking cock resting against his stomach.

"Fuck Mikey,"

Michael bit his lip and looked hopeful as Trevor slowly traced it to gauge a reaction. His dick twitched with every touch, pre-cum slowly but surely creating a pool onto his belly. Trevor swiped his finger through the clear substance and brought it up to Michael's mouth, waiting for his mouth to open. His slid his finger in, watching for Michael to close his eyes like he always does when there's something in his mouth.

As he closed them, Trevor quickly reached down and slipped the pulsing cock between his lips. He felt cool air around his moist fingers as Michael gasped, hands grabbing at the couch and his own hair. Trevor took him all the way with no hesitation, using another hand to circle his hole. Trevor lifted himself from his dick and spat on his right pointer finger. He shifted his vision up to Michael as he continued circling the spasming hole, grinning at Michael shaking his head 'yes' vigorously.

"Eager?" Trevor taunted, slowly poking his finger in.

"Please, Trev," Michael begged silently, pushing his hips back to force the finger deeper inside of him. 

"Please what?"

"You know what,"

"Mmm," Trevor thought for a moment, stilling all movement, "no, actually I don't know, M."

"Fuck you,"

"Maybe next time," Trevor said and removed his finger, silencing Michael's whines by spitting on his face. He wanted to punch him, twist his dick until it hurt, but instead of yelling at him, he moaned.

He fucking moaned.

Even Trevor had noticed- he also noticed how swiftly Michael buried his face into his neck, a cherry-red blush creeping on his cheeks and down his throat.

"M," Trevor spoke sternly, grabbing the man below him by his jaw and turning his head. Michael expected to be ridiculed, or maybe even left there as punishment for being encouraged by such a nasty thing. 

However, Trevor lifted Michael's legs and wrapped them around his waist. He then poured a glob of lube into his hand, taking hold of his cock and pumping. After a few loose pumps, he grabbed Michael's cock and expanded his grip, acquiring both members at once. 

Trevor began with ruthless thrusts, going fucking crazy with Michael's reactions. His shoulders were glowing with sweat, a few beads even dropped below and gathered onto the other man's skin.

Michael's hair was messy, most of it bounced lightly with every thrust.

"I'm close, oh my god, Trevor," Michael whimpered, using the heels of his feet to draw Trevor impossibly closer.

"Yeah?"

"Yes," Michael sighed, arching his lower back. Trevor's thrusts continued as he lowered himself and sucked onto Michael's pulse point on his neck.

"Oh, oh fuck, Trevor!" He was close to crying at this point, ropes of cum coating the other cock and his stomach. Michael arched his back so high, his thighs shook as he came. 

"Fuck, Mikey, look at me," Trevor panted, wanting to see the utterly debauched man underneath him. His body still convulsed after a moment. 

Trevor fucked into his fist, cum shooting up Michael's chest. It made Michael shudder- he was still feeling the aftershocks of his orgasm, even after Trevor's.

Trevor was still for a few minutes, peppering Michael with light kisses along his neck and chest, kissing his nipples and still loving the way Michael would shiver.

"I need a fuckin' shower now," Michael spoke first, drawing a deep laugh out of the man atop of him.  
Trevor sat up and wiped Michael's chest with his shirt from the floor, then lifted him up and untied his wrists.

"I'm gonna sleep- shower, stay, I don't give a fuck." Trevor spoke blankly, not seeming to pay attention to the obvious uneasiness that painted Michel's face.

"Okay, T."

Michael watched as Trevor snatched his underwear and pants from the floor and walked into his room. If Michael had the slightest thought of staying over, it faded the second Trevor shut his bedroom door.

He hadn't had the chance to ask about the newer track marks on his arms.

As Michael arose from the grimy couch, he slipped his clothes back on. He walked to the case of beer that sat in the same spot as always and started sipping.

He sipped until his stomach swooshed around and bile came up.

He took a moment to assess where he really was. He realized that he's maybe the dumbest motherfucker alive.

It's 3:04 A.M.

He should've went home, went to see Amanda and his children.

Nope, he risks it all for someone who'd pay to see him drop.

Truthfully, he wouldn't have it any other way.

Michael steps outside with a bottle of the shitty beer that Trevor drinks. He trips over his shoes as he makes his way into his car.

Before he leaves, he rolls down the passenger window and aims directly for the trailer, hurling the Pisswasser bottle.

Michael speeds off, relying purely on God to make sure he doesn't kill anyone.

After 5 minutes, he finds himself behind one of the many giant rocks in this area. He turns the car off, retrieves his gun out of his bag and rests it on his lap with the safety on.

He wishes he'd use the damn thing on himself so he'd prevent having weekend spent sobbing to himself.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed!


End file.
